


Clan of the Cool Breeze Drabbles

by Dragoonfliy



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoonfliy/pseuds/Dragoonfliy
Summary: A drabble collection for my Wind Clan.





	1. Mistral Jamboree 2016 -1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own!
> 
> Dragons and their bios can be found on my Flight Rising account! Username Dragoonfliy ID 18222

In which Quechay tries to sew something for the Jamboree but gets distracted by people being sketchy.

Quechay punched the bone needle through the thick tarp, humming to herself. The bone, a nicely straight tibia from one of Alastair’s muck piles, wasn’t good for any of her current projects but made a good sewing tool. She was one of the few who could sew anything pretty, so when Glaustcer and Frostwyn had come to her with Jamboree plans for a balloon, she’d accepted. She was sure they should have started the project months ago, but in true Wind fashion they had started late. They weren’t big enough to ascend to the Cloudsong, but that had never stopped them from building small kites and balloons. And now a larger balloon. Big enough for a coatl at least. Quechay wasn’t particularly enthused about that Cloudsong ascending part, too close to a too big wind. She’d never tell anyone, but the breeze? The breeze was good. It gave her art new life as it swayed and spun gently in the wind. The Cloudsong? It would probably blow her smaller pieces right over. No good. She was glad it was still far away. She doubted the clan would ever get that big.

She punched more holes in the tarp, frowning, and watched strange dragons she wasn’t used to seeing roam the grass around her. That was definitely a new guardian. She would remember somebody so who liked to wear that much gold. Maybe the clan would get big enough. But at least it wasn’t plaguelands. Mother had blessed her with the drive to push forward, to tooth and claw be what she was, but that was an artist. And the… art of her homeland was not the art she wanted to make. That art was, of all places, here in the grass-choked pillars of wind. While musing on her home a smear of red caught her eye. She jabbed the needle through another bit of tarp, but turned the motion into a sharp lunge forward, grabbing the arm of a dragon passing close by. The passing dragon jolted, her face curling into a quick grimace, and Quechay sneered back at her.

They stood locked for a few moments.

“What.” Tetrazene said, her voice flat. Her dark eyes flicked down to Quechay’s hand.

She was always so quiet. Thought she was clever when she crept and watched. Quechay made a show of admiring Tetrazene’s holiday “outfit” while still keeping a grip on her arm. She’d changed the color of her wraps and added a few feathers. The green of her gloves brought out the red of the flower on her wrist. Quechay knew the flower well.

“You look nnice.” She almost had draconic down, damn it.

Tetrazene’s face stayed flat. “Thank you.”

Quechay clenched Tetrazene’s arm a little tighter, twisting it so the flower faced upright.

“Yourr flowerr is… Unique. Carreful that Yrrrl doesnn’t get herr hannds on itt. She’ll prrobably turnn it innto soup.”

Tetrazene’s stare intensified. Her eyes searched Quechay’s face for a moment. Quechay snorted.

“I donn’t givve a grreatshelll what hhappened betweenn you annd Mmother. Itt would justt be a shhame if you losst yourr pretty souvenneir.”

She let go of Tetrazene’s arm.

“Noww go askk Yrrl forr morre of thatt bubbly airr drink forr me. I’mm too busy.”

Tetrazene’s mouth flattened in a frown, and she stalked off without a word. The flower, a rose from Plague, the kind that grew off fresh corpses, it’s petals the sheen of fresh spilt blood, fluttered slightly in the breeze. Quechay watched her go and sipped her bubbly drink. It was flowery and sweet. It probably tasted a lot better to tundras, but the fizz was nice.


	2. Mistral Jamboree 2016 - 2

In which Yrl tries to get Vembrant to help her make more of the bubbly.

“Vembrant.”

“Vemmbrant.

“VEM. BRANT.”

Yrl frowned. She was used to the difficult task of getting Fulgrim’s attention, but a sleeping nocturne was a different story. She often wondered if maybe Vembrant hadn’t totally woken up with her brethren during night of the nocturne. She spent an abnormal amount of time sleeping. Not like it was her problem, if Vem wanted a potion to keep her up, she knew who to come to.

“Vem.”

“Hmm.” The nocturne sighed. Her blue heading was peeking though the thick grass that was growing pell-mell around her coiled form.

“Vembrant, don’t you think it would be more comfortable over there by those blackberries?” Yrl urged. “Just… Right over there. About twenty paces?”

The nocturne snorted a blade of grass away from her face, blinking groggily, but didn’t lift her head.

“I’m sure you’re thirsty. I’ve got some blackberry-and-feverfew bubbly?”

The nocturne was properly stirring now, stretching her short legs and mottled wing membranes. Yrl held out the flask of purple bubbly encouragingly. 

There wouldn’t be much blackberry bubbly left by end of the festival if she couldn’t lure Vembrant to the patch. She was saving the good, fermented stuff for the release of the new balloon, and had underestimated how popular the minor bubbly project would be, and was running out of fresh flavoring. Vembrant’s natural affinity for plants would ensure that the current patch Yrl was growing would yield enough purple bubbly to last until the end of the festival at least. 

“It’s good.” Vembrant mumbled approvingly, sipping the drink as Yrl herded her to the blackberry patch.

“Thank you.” Yrl smiled, and let herself flush a little with pride. “You’ll be helping, once we get you comfortable.”

She helped dig out some of the uneven ground so the other dragon could get settled. Vembrant’s head drooped slowly onto the ground and she began breathing softly, almost instantly asleep. The plants around her didn’t just stir in the breeze, they vibrated with an intensity that was only brought out in Vem’s presence.

Yrl nodded approvingly at the plants, tentatively testing the firmness of one of the blackberries. “Good.” She murmured to herself. She gave a polite, amused nod at the unconscious Vembrant in thanks. She’d be back tomorrow to harvest.


End file.
